Heavier maybe. In early November I started to feel the shift beginning and I tried together my ducks in a row accordingly. I think it was November that Mr. D (Depression) sent a reminder of his impending visit and I think he too was a little annoyed at the fact that I was hoping and acting as though he mightn’t visit this year. He was right. I feel as though this past manic season was the best I have had in over 5 years as I didn’t have any major breakdowns, I didn’t run off without telling anyone, I managed my hyper-sexuality well, I didn’t start any new businesses or incur anymore debt. I did good this year; even if it’s only me who understands that.
Things started to feel heavier and I didn’t have the energy to maintain my 7 day per week work schedule and consequently started dropping some stuff. I definitely trimmed the fat and tried to create a more realistic schedule based on my energy levels. But as all things with bipolarity we tend to overdo it and it’s finding the right balance that we struggle with. I went from 7 days a week to 2. Yes, you read that right. I was exhausted from all the picking and dropping I was doing for my sister and working on average 2 days per week. It might not sound like a lot but for this time of the year it’s a WHOLE LOT.
Between dating and my sister I wasn’t finding much ME time or ME space and I struggled with being elated and happy to have them both around to wishing they could be around while I exist close enough to them but in like my own private bubble. It’s hard to reconcile loving them and enjoying their company in one breath and wishing there was a 25th hour in the day just for me and better yet; an 8th day in the week where only I existed.
I was growing tired of feeling as though I am at their service; cooking, existing… everything. It’s this part of being me that I often struggle with explaining to others. If you’ve read my bio, you’d see where I said I love people but I honestly don’t quite like them. I love them as a whole but I haven’t much tolerance for them existing. I suppose this is where the selfish loner and sensitive INTJ part comes around. I love my sister with all I know how and it was an absolute joy and blessing having her around but I don’t know how long my sanity would’ve survived. I love my partner and I enjoy the time that we share but I don’t think I’d cope with more time (laughs while covering mouth and eyes). It’s my truth and I won’t pretend it’s anything else. If I had to see anyone all day, everyday; I’d strip myself and run off into the woods barefooted and wild and never look back. If I had to entertain another human for anything longer than a few hours per day my soul would melt away from my body and leave it hanging; empty…hollow.
I love humans but I don’t like them.
I say them; knowing full well that I am dissociating from the parts of me that are considered human because I’m not sure I’ll ever truly accept that the things I dislike most about myself are the things that make me them; human (eew) haha
Well, exactly one week ago I found out a close friend and past lover died. I wept uncontrollably for a few hours and the tears threaten even now as I write. I messaged and called a dead man over and over and over for over a month. We live in different countries you see and as adults with budding lives , careers and family, we’d connect at least once per week with a little check in chat and had our once a month video call to see that the other is actually still alive and getting fatter (Me) and leaner (him). We held space for vulnerability, bounced ideas off each other, talked about our current lovers and the occasional venture into our crazy families. We were good. Its was good. I’m happy and grateful to have met him and known the parts of him that he shared and I’ll honour the memories we shared forever.
The tears dried up within two days though; as I learnt things about his life that he chose not to share. I went from heartbreak over his death and my lack of knowledge about it for well over a month, to rage at the circumstances surrounding his passing; I refuse to believe he drowned; he was top of his class and cohort; a diver of his caliber doesn’t drown in a fucking harbour! *breathes* if my chest is to believe; I think I am still angry. The emotion I feel the most however is uncertainty, if that’s even an emotion. I feel as though I only knew a fraction of the man I called friend because the parts of his life that he chose not to share were such big parts and I’m torn trying to rationalize why he felt the need to keep those away from me.
Was I a horrible friend who would ruin it for him with my pessimistic views on the unnaturalness of monagamy?? Was I not as close to him as I thought I was?? Who was this person even? Who was I to them? What is even true and what’s not? and how dare he die without any notice? Yes, at 27 years old, I still ask these illogical questions and a part of me would really like some answers…from the dead.
A symptom of my disorder is hallucinating. Every time I have been alone since I’m both terrified and hopeful that my brain will conjure up his likeness…we deserve one last conversation…one last “I only want to see you happy” one last “I love you”
Cue the snotty nose and leaky eye faucet
I’ve been meaning to write you since I found out about your transitioning. You know I believe souls never die and you always read my blog to keep up with my madness so I hope you’re checking in now. The parts of me that believe in magic and parallel universes and the endlessness of souls are feeling quite comforted right now having finally sat to pen this. I imagine you’re reading over my shoulder right now waiting for me to get to the point and stop being so long winded. But I shan’t. You can’t rush my thoughts along anymore with the “Mani, I’m gonna have to let you go soon because work work work”. I imagine you’re restless as a soul and can’t wait to be reborn into a body so you can go to work again, dive again, study again. I imagine you’re trying to figure out how to expedite the resting in peace part and figuring out what’s next for you in this realm that I’m still in.
But Kennybear if I could say anything and you’d listen; I’d tell you to go smoke some weed; I hope the soul version is even doper than ours lol. I’d tell you to go spend your days watching Kyra grow up and if there’s anyway to communicate tell (show) her how much you love her, and how much you believe she is beautiful and smart and talented and that she can do amazing and positively impactful things in this life.
If you’re reading this; send me a sign that you’re fine and that you’ll at least consider the resting part of the RIP thing.
I love you KP,